


Wedding Bells And Death Bells Sound So Much Alike

by Tomatoglassesnerd



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, My attempt at angst, My first angst, Please tell me if I suck, i hope you enjoy, new to writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomatoglassesnerd/pseuds/Tomatoglassesnerd
Summary: A possibility of what might have happened while Aziraphale was discorperated in heaven and Crowley was alone on earth after the burning of the bookshop...TRIGGER WARNING:yeah, this is probably a bad fic but it still mentions a bit of self-hate, suicide, death and Karens so if you have a problem with any of these things I wouldn't recommend reading this.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Wedding Bells And Death Bells Sound So Much Alike

**Author's Note:**

> This Is my first time writing a fic! please give me advice down in the comments! It really helps motivate me and will give me better ideas for my future pieces (I am working on one right now). This one I wrote in about two days, even though it has an estimated 8-minute reading time. I wanted to make it so that people can get a tiny taste of my writing style and leave a few tips if they have any. I worked hard on it and am pretty pleased, but it's more than okay if you don't enjoy it, all you need to do is tell me! 
> 
> Again, please leave suggestions in the comments and enjoy!

_ Numb. _

_ Crowley felt numb. _

_ Numb, confused, tired, desperate,  _

_ Alone. _

_ Crowley felt very alone. _

_ “I shouldn’t litter should I? I mean I probably should litter, I’m a demon after all, but nobody’s really keeping score anymore.” _

_ As Crowley drove around the corner, fleeing the ashes of his best friend’s home, some form of gas tank must have ignited, bursting the window open, shaking the ground outside, though Crowley hadn’t noticed. He was focused as he reached for a new pair of sunglasses from his glove box, over the last remaining book of his best friend's collection. Though that wasn’t what he was focused on, oh no, Crowley was focused on what in the world he was going to do. _

That was then. Now Crowley, with little energy, was on his way in his Bentley to… actually he wasn’t quite certain where... but he’d figure it out. He  _ always _ did.

_ “What am I going to do?” _ the demon wondered as bells rang in the distance,  _ “He’s gone. There’s nothing left for me here. What if Aziraphale comes back? Surely he will? What if he’s not on earth? Maybe he went to alpha Centauri looking for me? But that can’t be it. There wouldn’t be he-” _ Crowley was fighting the tears pooling behind his golden eyes. He didn’t know that was possible really,  _ “Hellfire burning his shop to the ground if we were alive.” _ Little did the demon know, the fire was not quite what he thought it was since there was little to no real Hell in its origin.

_ “I- I can’t. I can’t do this. Did he even know how much I love him? MY BEST FRIEND IS GONE AND I AM ALONE!” _ Crowley stopped the Bentley, pulling it to the side of the long stretch of road he now found himself on, and again, the bells rang. 

_ “I can’t. I CAN’T. Ican’tIcan’tIcan’tIcan’t” _ “I CAN’T DO THIS ALONE AZIRAPHALE.” Now on his back, in a small ditch beside the road, Crowley let the flood behind his sunglasses flow, not bothering to put any of his dignity into a boat. Just letting it all drown. “Aziraphale I- Wher- WHY? Why? Why would you let this happen to him? Do you really hate me that much? To leave me alone on the earth you made without him?”

_ “How could you?” _

There they were again.

The bells.

Crowley had always hated the sound of church bells. Always too loud and happy, or too quiet and sad.  _ Never _ in between. But this time, they caused an idea to form. 

Slow to rise, Crowley had made his decision. “I’ll see you soon angel.”

.

.

.

.

.

The church was full of life and joy as two families greeted and congratulated each other. One lady, who went by the name of Deborah, was eagerly chit-chatting with her soon to be daughter-in-law, though not her son’s wife, but his wife’s sister, “How exciting is this! Finally, Guinevere and Ben are going to be so happy together! I’m not sure why it took this  _ long _ though. Or why I was only told about it yesterday. Could have been a lot simpler if they had asked me to be the wedding planner, don’t you think?” 

“Actually I-” “I would have made sure all the decorations were white and gold rather than this baby-blue and yellow  _ nonsense _ ! It would look lovely in here! I wonder who decided that was a good idea.” Deborah spat with her nose to the sky. 

“Well I actually-” again, Deborah wanted to speak. “And the flowers! Don’t get me started on the flowers! White roses are  _ obviously _ what should have been used. Who uses Forget-me-nots and sunflowers in a wedding!?”

Isabella, the soon-to-be-daughter-in-law, was now growing impatient. She waited for one… two… three… seconds until she attempted to speak again, but just as she opened her mouth, Deborah began ranting and yapping about how “the decorations this  _ stupid _ planner chose are simply  _ wretched _ !” Enough was enough, so in a moment of self-proclaimed genius, Isabella took her well-manicured index finger and lightly tapped her mouth. When nothing happened, she tapped it lightly to Deborah’s.  _ “Wow, Ben was right. His mum really is a wench.” _ With that thought and her last bit of patience gone, Isabella took her finger from the opposing woman’s lips and placed it in her mouth.

Isabella slowly removed her finger, wiping it on Deborah’s white dress and began to speak. “ _ I _ was asked to be the wedding planner,  _ you absolute wanker _ . These are  _ MY _ designs. Guin and Ben asked me to use this colour pallet and their favorite flowers. Of course you would have known that sooner if you had shut your  _ fucking _ mouth. If you don’t mind, I think you should go sit somewhere else  _ Deborah _ . It was nice meeting you!” 

Whether it was the speed of Isabella’s transformation between having poison dripping off her tongue, to being bubbly and kind, someone having the audacity to shove their finger in her mouth or the shock that she’d been insulting the wedding planner to her face, Deborah did in fact leave to sit somewhere about three pews behind her, all while muttering something about her son hearing about this, and, _ “I’d never!” _

Just as Deborah sat down, the chattering stopped and the ceremony began.

Benjamin, the groom and Deborah’s son, made his way down the aisle and towards the priest in his light yellow tuxedo, along with his best man, Liam. Once there, the music began to play, yet where the bride, Guinevere, was meant to come out with her beautiful baby-blue gown, a strange man in a baby-blue hazmat suit began strutting his way down.

The strange man hobbled his way down the aisle as if he were doing some sort of dance between tap and a waltz. The music stopped as the man reached the priest and the groom. “Hey guys. how’s it going?” Crowley asked, shakily putting his hand down to reach for something to grasp, “Got any holy water in here? It’s the thir- GAH!” Crowley yelped, clutching his burning hand. “God these pews are old aren't they? Well,” Crowley struggled on, “as I was saying, this is the third church I've been to in the last half-hour, so pleeease tell me you’ve got some holy water in heREEE! OW GEEZ!” Crowley exclaimed, now hopping on one foot. 

“I’m... Very sorry sir, but are you alright?” Father Damien asked, reaching for the demon. “YEP!” Crowley swatted the hand, “No need for touching  _ daddy _ , I’m all good. Just need some holy water and then I can be off. Mind putting it in here?” Crowley tossed the priest the thermos that had recently been emptied of holy water, “Thanks. This really can’t wait. I’ll be outside!” The demon took off running down and out the aisle, not seeing the very obviously disgruntled look on the priest's face. “OH AND CONGRATS TO THE HAPPY COUPLE!” And with that Crowley was gone.

.

.

After about five minutes of very confused silence, and Crowley getting out of his suit and applying some sort of afterburn cream, Father Damien excused himself from the wedding to find the demon, holy water-filled thermos in hand.

“Here, now please leave. It was  _ very _ rude of yo-” “Yeah, Yeah, blasphemous and all that. If I weren’t a literal demon I’d probably apologize but I have a meeting with God in about… Oh, thirty minutes? Nah, less than that if there isn’t much traffic. Nice meeting you!” And off Crowley went, for possibly his last ride in his Bently.

.

.

.

.

Crowley didn’t think much on his way to the pub. That would get in the way of his actions. He only really listened to “Queen’s Greatest Hits”. Well, maybe he did think a little. But the only thing he did think about was whether or not his death would be like human deaths. Would he go to a place celestial beings go when they die? Would Aziraphale be there? Would he still care for Crowley even after he let him down. Let him  _ die _ ? No. Those thoughts stopped as the first bit of alcohol entered his system. _ “This is my last supper, isn’t it? Well then. To Aziraphale...” _ Crowley rose his glass, in a mostly-drunk haze, and thought to himself “ _ At the end of this bottle I’ll add a bit of that,” _ He glanced to the thermos, thoroughly hidden on the floor next to the leg of the small table he was at,  _ “And then I can rest. For eternity. _ ” 

“Same again.” Crowley said heavily,  _ “Yep. This one’s it. Definitely it…” _ Crowley had not yet been able to touch the thermos since he had placed it on the floor when he sat down. His reasoning was he wasn’t drunk enough, and he'd be damned if he wasn’t going out with his mind ready to explode from the amount of alcohol in his system.

“I never asked to be a demon,” Crowley told the unenthused bartender, “I just minded my own business one day and then ‘Ah looky here! It’s Lucifer and the guyyys!’...” and again, for the fourth time at that pub, he went on and on about his time he was made a demon, and just like the first, no one took notice.

Then suddenly, like lightning bursting a tree into flames, there he was. Though… It couldn’t be him. Could it?  _ No _ . He was just at that stage of drunk when hallucinations appear. But that had never happened to him before, so then it must be- 

“Aziraphale.” Crowley lifted his glasses, not if certain his mind was playing tricks or not. “Are you here?”

“Good question, not certain. Never done this before… Can you hear me?”

And like a shot of adrenalin being poured into his veins, Crowley was back. Everything wrong in his world was so much less so now than they had ever been. He was back. Aziraphale left to find a body to borrow in his typical old-timey, goofy matter, with Crowley questioning his choices. Like old times, the way they liked it. Aziraphale had given Crowley the Antichrist, Adam’s, location and was on his way to meet his angel there. 

  
  


Aziraphale was  _ alive _ . 

  
  


And so was Crowley.

**Author's Note:**

> What'd you think? Like it? Don't like it? Tell me! I'm happy to hear your thoughts and am more than open to criticism! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you get a chance to enjoy some of my future wors as well!!


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